Starting a New Life

I’ve been a mess lately.

The last two weeks I’ve cried every single day. Sometimes just teary eyes. Sometimes literally weeping while washing dishes or sitting at my desk.

I’m mourning the end of something significant.

I always say that I’m great at playing the hand I’m dealt, but I struggle to decide my own fate.

Recently, I made the most deliberate decision of my life.

I decided to walk away from something “good enough” in favour of the hope found in an un-promised future. I left the safe, secure, mostly fine job I’ve held for a decade to focus on Dust & Breath full-time.

It’s a dream I’ve held in my heart for more than 15 years. This is the first time in my life this decision has even been an option for me. I have a safe space to call my own, enough confidence in what I offer the world, and a supportive partner. 

Everything has fallen into place to make my dreams a reality.

Yet the tears flow.

Putting words on the tears has been hard, but here it is:

I’m walking away from my place of belonging.

My workplace was my community.  My colleagues were friends who held my pain, kept my secrets and brought me endless laughter and joy.

So why leave?

I don’t have a concise answer yet.

I could tell you that Dust & Breath deserves my full attention. It does. It can’t become the beautiful creation I envision without more attention.

I could tell you that the pandemic, and some other life events, have made me examine my priorities. Also true.

But more than anything, I want to divorce myself from the fear that still rules the deep reaches of my heart. The voice inside me that—even after all I’ve walked through—says, “You can’t be an artist. You don’t have anything to say. Stay still, stay quiet.”

More than anything, I want to divorce myself from the fear that still rules the deep reaches of my heart. The voice inside me that says ‘You can’t be an artist.’

 

So with that in mind, I mourn the shift from “good enough” to the hope that lives in the unknown. The discomfort that promises freedom if I can walk through it.

Today is a day of celebration.

It’s my last day in a place that has been so good to me for many years, and the day I open my calendar for late summer and fall Family Art Sessions.

I’ve never felt so scared, or so courageous.